My grown up life
by LilyBartAndTheOthers
Summary: Because sometimes, things don't turn out as we had planned. WK fic
1. Saint Mary's Academy

"Karen…"

The whole class had suddenly turned around to stare at her with a disturbing curiosity. She had grown used of being an odd center of attention, the mysterious new girl in town whom very soon would fall back into the most complete anonymity and she would be forgotten until their next move.

Since the earliest years of childhood she could remember, her life had always been that way; a sort of roller coaster of ignorance followed by a furtive nonsense of wonders.

The fact was that her memories were still intact. She had kept in mind the slightest detail of that day from the grey of the sky that had been sliding on the hardwood floor to the scent of wax that had invaded the corridors and from which a gloomy sensation seemed to spread over you, passing underneath your bones; stealing your hopes.

She had crossed her hands methodically, cleared her throat.

She simply couldn't deceive her audience.

"I don't see the point of this so-called family life; the husband, the children… So I won't get married and even less experience motherhood. I want to be an independent woman who doesn't need the help of anyone. I believe that the only person we should trust and rely on is ourselves. The rest is just part of how lying sounds easy sometimes."

She didn't like shocking but taking her revenge over gossip. She knew way too well how the others were, what they murmured in her back. But the truth was that for once, besides the rebellious aspect of her statement, she had been sincere.

And it had left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Let's see where I am within fifteen years though if I wear a wedding ring and push some stroller, then you will have the right to advance the fact that I am sad and I missed out my whole life."

She had been expelled that day for misbehavior towards the rules of Saint Mary's Academy. From then on her mother had only chosen public schools until the night she had packed and rushed a bit aimlessly to Manhattan.

She hadn't even needed to ask for any legal emancipation. Nobody had ever tried to catch her up. It must have meant something.

The last time she had thought about Saint Mary's Academy, Nevada was the day she had known that her relationship with Stanley had died, right when he had hold her hand to slid a diamond engagement ring on it. Her throat hadn't tightened, she hadn't felt the tears well up in her eyes. Instead of all of this, she had remained blank and calm while the weird sensation to be deprived of her life had spread over her mind.

Ten years later the ink got engraved on the paper and she sealed her third divorce; three consecutive failures in the shadow of what she had imagined once as a warm, bright existence. But what was left of her dreams, at the end, if not the harshness of utopian ideas that were dying in a corner of her brain?

She didn't wait for the end of the procedure. As long as she had signed, her presence wasn't required anymore so she left the building without looking backwards, swearing to herself that everything was over now. She wouldn't marry anyone, not anymore. She was done with what she had always tried to run away from; no mattered the next person she would meet might actually be the right one she had been looking for all along.

"Karen Delaney, is that you?"

She couldn't help but freeze at the sound of her maiden name. Only a few people knew about it and still, they wouldn't even think about calling after her like that in the middle of a street. Perplexed, she turned around and came face-to-face with a woman in her late thirties wearing a pair of worn-out jeans; a baby bottle in hand.

"I'm sorry, I don't…"

"Of course you can't recognize me. I'm Cheryl Lane, we were in the same class at Saint Mary's Academy. You didn't stay very long since you'd been expelled. You got the reputation of a true rebel, then. I see no wedding ring on your finger, even less a stroller so I assume you're happy."

The fact someone else remembered her own statement took her aback. She blinked, cleared her voice but found herself in the impossibility to confirm the woman's presumption. Something was aching inside of her, next to her heart.

Cheryl shook the baby bottle she had been holding all the time.

"I might not have followed the same path… I gave birth to my fourth child in March."

"Congratulations…"

"Thank you. I am running late though so I have to go now. I'm sorry. It was nice to see you again and I hope that your painting skills made all of your dreams come true. You were so talented."

And like the wind taking away the brownish leaves of the fall in a ballet of regrets, Cheryl vanished from her life leaving behind the glorious dreams of a past life; a missed one.

That might be the reason why the brief encounter made her feel so sad.

In a mechanical gesture, she grabbed her cell phone from her bag and wrote down a text message.

_I need to go away for a while. Don't be worried. I'll be fine._

Everything went well until the moment she proceeded to send the missive and realized that now Stanley was out of the picture, she had nobody to call about the ups and downs of her life.

One more time she had just stopped being the odd center of attention and very soon she would disappear in the intricate nets of people's blurry minds because it was always like that.


	2. No mattered how

It wasn't a revaluation of her life since the notion implied the fact she had already worked on that at least once and it wasn't the case. She hadn't forgotten anything either, hadn't tried to ignore the way things had been evolving. She simply had stopped to care and let the wind decide for her.

Maybe that had been her mistake, giving up so easily when she still had had everything to get.

She didn't bother to unpack, barely had a look at the little house. The luxury of her Upper East Side mansion didn't find any resonance in the one-bedroom flat she had landed in but as her signature at the bottom of the divorce papers hit her back, she realized that the way of life she had grown accustomed to had probably flown away at the same time as her marriage with Stanley.

How many people decided one day to start it all over again? Probably a million but the real question _ the one that really mattered _ was about the result of their quest and if they finally found some balance in their so-called lives.

But the ones who crashed were reduced to silence, just not to scare the other ones seduced by the idea; trapped in the nets of blinding utopias.

She took off her shoes and walked to the terrace, the sand sliding under her bare feet.

For some reason she had the feeling to belong to the second category and the firm line formed by her lips would settle down for the rest of her days, swallowing back her mistakes and the noisy sound of her failures. Was there anything more shameful than crashing all the time? People thought so many things about you then and as much as you would claim the exact opposite, their opinions mattered. They always did.

The sand had been warmed up by the sun and as her feet made contact with the soft ground, a chill ran down her spine before spreading throughout her body. Digging intricate paths that the waves would take away and delete as soon as you would turn your back at them, she had always loved the idea and the sensation it brought to her heart. She felt better then, hidden.

She reached the sea and held back a gasp at the sudden change of temperature against her bare skin. But very soon the waves seemed to embrace her ankles more softly and she relaxed, enjoying their caresses.

Within a few hours the sun would disappear somewhere behind an invisible line and the sky would turn dark, cold. The stars might shine, glimmer like a trail of diamonds but the silence of the place would only send back the bitterness of her life and she would probably feel asleep rocked by her cries. It hadn't happened for such a long time that she almost wanted nothing but the salt of her tears in her mouth; a fair suffering.

She sat down on the beach, folded her arms under her legs; leaned her chin on her knees contemplating the pale colors of the end of the day.

If she had come to this place earlier, she would have wished nothing but paint until her fingertips turned the colors of a singular rainbow, dry mixtures of a sudden impulsion. But it had stopped and her heart was blank now, unable to desire anything; barely moving under the idea of having dreams.

"Grace says hi… I was going to knock on your door but then I saw you here. Is everything alright?"

It hit her mind all of a sudden, like a whim flirting deliberously with the limits of craziness. Perhaps the idea had always been there, lost somewhere in her head, and had finally chosen this particular moment to show up; unless it was all new, ridiculous enough.

She didn't look at him as he sat down by her side, adopting the same position as her. No, she simply closed her eyes and nodded, smiled.

If her heart had ceased to ask for anything then her mind seemed to love exploring the borderlines of impossible challenges, absurd ones that at the end would only add another number to the list of her failures. But she couldn't help it.

"Is your room okay, honey? Is it close to mine?"

"It looks like I'm the boy next door."

"How convenient it is…"

And it was. It really was. Restraining a sigh of satisfaction, she turned her face around and locked her eyes with his brown ones, bit her lower lip.

A spider net, the strategy of patience rewarding her whims; it would be Will.

"So now that we are here, on the other side of the country, would you tell me why I turned to be the acolyte of your singular getaway?"

He didn't look troubled at all, even less worried. As a matter of fact, his lay-back attitude only managed to strengthen her sudden _ not that unexpected _ decision.

She raised an eyebrow and pouted.

"Give me some time."

For a furtive second something pinched her heart and made her hesitate but it didn't last long enough. Her foot caressed the sand, the motion revealing the pale skin of her thigh as her skirt moved up lightly. She smiled at nothing in particular but the deepest secrets of her mind.

"Yes, give me some time…"

A plan never worked if you revealed its mechanisms too early. The prey wouldn't fall into the trap and you would be left disarmed, frustrated by a latent hunger. And her distress was so high that she couldn't afford to crash, not again; not this time.

Karen sighed, softly.

She would get in Will's arms; no mattered how.


	3. A patchwork life

It was just about putting everything on pause and let it go. If she started thinking, wondering about the facts of life, then it would turn sharp and cold; scaring enough for her to stop immediately and vanish in a whirl of incomprehensible apologies. It had happened once and somehow she was still paying for it.

She woke up the next morning rocked by the melody of the rain hitting the windows and the bitterness of an empty bed tightening her heart with strength. She was getting older and the appealing shades of loneliness seemed to start fading away slowly. Perhaps she was just meant to live by someone's side; no mattered at some point in her life she had claimed the exact opposite. After all she had got married three times.

She opened her eyes and stared blankly at the grey ribbon of the sea spreading below on the beach; how the waves pretended to disappear but always came back at the end. It reminded her of her perpetual mistakes, wrong choices; odd decisions taken in a hurry.

Someone knocked on the door. She didn't move.

A weight was pounding loud on her chest, an irrepressible melancholy that had showed up all of a sudden in the most unexpected way and all she was now wishing for was to burst into tears, silently enough; alone.

"Good morning…"

But then Will poked his head inside and she forgot about her dark feelings. There was no time for tears, not now that she had a plan and the game had begun.

Sitting up in bed Karen smiled at him softly but didn't reply. He had let her disarmed the evening before, so quiet that the conversation seemed to have turned at some point into a desperate soliloquy and for the very first time she had wondered if her friend wasn't part of another mistake. Jack's company might have been futile, still his presence would have seemed warmer and reassuring.

And it was not that she didn't like Will but their relation wasn't like the others so it was hard sometimes to deal with it properly.

He sat on the edge of her bed, studied the waves by the window.

"Do I make you uncomfortable, honey?"

"I'm just not used to seeing you like that; without makeup and your hair all messed up."

It hadn't crossed her mind. She had let him enter the small house, still halfway between the softness of forgotten dreams and a sticking reality, without realizing that she wasn't ready for anything and probably looked like a thirty-eight-year-old woman going cruelly thirty-nine. Which she was but nobody had to know the entire story.

A sudden heat rushed to her cheeks. She looked down nervously enough in an attempt to hide the embarrassment his comment had stirred up. Her reaction made him laugh and she burried herself under the blanket, now extremely uncomfortable.

"I didn't say you had scared me. As a matter of fact, it's a very pleasant image you're sending back to me this morning… And it's good to know that without your appearances, you're not falling into pieces."

The compliment got stolen by the irony of his innocent comment. Hiding her clenched fists under the blanket, Karen looked aside and bit her lower lip in a subtle fit of rage against herself. She took a deep breath and finally nodded.

"I suppose I should say thank you."

"Not if you don't really mean it. Anyway, do you have any plan for today?"

"It's raining."

"Which is an excellent excuse to walk along the cliffs; the view is probably breathtaking from there."

She hadn't learned how to seduce men. It had come by itself, boiling in her lower stomach at the same time as her anger towards her broken life; a sort of necessity supposed to rescue her as soon as things were crashing. The years had passed by and she had got self-confidence in the strange ballet of words, gazes and smiles that flirtation was. It was all about attitudes and determination. But it had turned too easy at some point and she had got bored of it; then begun to focalize on so-called impossible challenges to spice up a monotone routine.

Will was only a part of it but like any new prey, he was damned tempting.

"Let's go by the lighthouse then. There's a little bench protected from the rain by an old pine tree. Even during a storm the drops can't reach you."

"How many times have you ever been here to develop such habits?"

She stopped on the doorframe of the bathroom but didn't look at him, simply closed her eyes in a seductive motion. Men always liked when she did.

"Time has nothing to do with habits. It's all about feelings."

And on this unexpected confession Karen shut the door of the bathroom as a quiet smile of triumph began to play on her lips. If things kept on going that way, it wouldn't take her long before reaching Will's bed then draw a line under what would inevitably look like a deep regret because it always turned that way at the end.

He was just a man, like any other one.

Twenty-minutes later they left the small flat and took some wild, coastal path. The rain was hitting her face but she felt fine; wearing her sister's old jeans, her mother's boots and Jack's blue-navy woolen sweater. Her clothes reflected exactly the person she was: a patchwork of people to hide the fear she was actually no one in particular.

But once again, nobody had to know that.


	4. Getting trapped

He was good-looking and probably knew it very well or he wouldn't have owned this self-confidence that never made him look down, always fight for his opinions. There was an ounce of arrogance in his tone but just the right amount to turn into something irresistible and you couldn't help but fall under his charm at the end, a bit hopelessly; completely disarmed.

But there was more about Will, according to her hazel eyes. For whatever reason, Karen felt like he was the only one she could rely on for the rest of her life.

It might have explained her sudden decision to make him hers, by some snap of her fingers; just another whim, a discutable passtime. She had always been attracted to him but with the barriers of some impossibility.

They came back to their respective houses and spent the afternoon on their own. The rain had penetrated her skin in an icy motion and she needed a bath to relax and feel some life passing back through her veins, warming up her blood. Besides it would let her time to think a bit more about her seduction plans because as much as she was trying, Will seemed to keep his distance on a very stubborn way, carrying her on slowly towards a cloud of incertitude, heavy doubts over her odd choices. She needed to be reassured, at least by her fantasies.

She plunged her head under the water, closing her eyes tight. She had always been afraid of keeping them open while doing so, imagining it could hurt. The sounds got stifled by the pulses of her heart pounding loud against her temples as her hair covered her face, dragged away by the movement of the bath.

She had told him once that he was meant to cross her path. He had remained quiet and taken her in his arms, awkwardly. Stanley had just been arrested and they had spent the evening together, trying to build some defense for her cheating husband.

They never spoke that much but their silence seemed to make them get closer, implicit understanding rocking their troubled minds. He was a true friend, a precious one; but she still had to get more and see her desires satisfied.

It was wrong and she knew it but just didn't care anymore, didn't bother to think about it. Life was too short, too unbalanced to remain passive.

"It's delicious."

Will replied by a smile and took another mouthful of fish and rice. He had been cooking for the two of them that evening and there they were now, sat down by the fireplace while the rain was still pouring outside. It should have sounded romantic and idyllic for her plans but for some reason the magic wasn't working that much and everything seemed stereotyped. That weighed a lot all of a sudden and Karen surprised herself by hoping he hadn't accepted her invitation to the seaside by pity. It was a lot worse than being ignored, at least for her.

"So what have you done this afternoon?"

"Nothing in particular…"

"Your glass is empty."

"I'm not thirsty."

Her remark took him aback, pinched her heart bitterly. Pride was getting mixed with the sadness of irony over the fact people couldn't help seeing her as some scandalous woman. She had asked for nothing but that so it was fair, just a bit desillusional from time to time. That was probably the price to pay.

"I don't need to drink all the time, honey."

"I had figured it out but then why do you do it though? Why do you take so much pleasure in shocking people with such unconventional behavior?"

"Why, because everyone likes that…"

The lightness of her tone didn't pass unnoticed and in order he didn't misunderstand her words, she kept on talking; the sentences hitting hard on her lips, getting trapped in her dry throat.

"That's all they're expecting from me. I don't blame them, on the contrary. I started the whole thing. I suppose they wouldn't understand if I decided to stop, all of a sudden, and get a rest from all of this. I'm only there for the entertainment bit."

It wasn't really thought, barely analyzed but she couldn't help _ in spite of all _ letting an inside smile light up her heart as she knew that her confession would touch Will and they would get closer, somehow.

He put down his glass of wine and frowned. She bit the inside of her mouth to restrain her invisible victory, a completely subconscious one.

The game was definitely too easy sometimes.

"Perhaps you should give it a try. I might have a preference over the person you are right now."

"No, this one is too boring to be alive."

She actually restrained a gasp as for a few seconds she found herself stuck in her whole trap. She had gone too far, had spoken too much and revealed thus a very dark part of her life; one that didn't need to be mentioned out loud.

Moving nervously before his silence, she cleared her voice and stood up then headed to the kitchen area aimlessly. She grabbed a spoon, put it down back and pointlessly dry her hands on a napkin.

"Have you ever wished you were about to die?"

His question made her freeze as a chill ran down her spine and she looked down, embarrassed.

"No… I just wish I hadn't screwed up my life like that."

She called it a night and left under the rain towards her one-bedroom flat, glad he hadn't followed her _ trying to catch her up like in some old movie _ because all of a sudden, she didn't feel like being that seductive. She just wanted to cease everything.


	5. Confrontation

She pretended to be tired and spent the whole day in bed thinking about nothing but the way Will used to get on her nerves. She envied him and his capacity to be right so easily, about so many things. It only made her frustration grow up then when she tried to reply the bitterness of her lies stayed trapped halfway between her heart and her mind because she knew how true his words were.

At some point she had thought that her life had turned to be the one she had always dreamed about but the satisfaction had only lasted a couple of days and she had understood then that it was actually over. She might not have been the only one to blame but there she was, facing blankly the ruins of missed opportunities. The rest had belonged to an odd logic. She had got married, divorced, married again. Her husband had eventually died and Stanley had appeared. Within a decade she had managed to put aside her regretful failures.

Or at least she had thought so but now the perspectives had adopted new shades, leaving her confused and terribly bitter. Perhaps there was an actual difference between forgiving and forgetting.

She didn't turn him down when he stopped by around seven in the evening. As a matter of fact she hadn't seen the day pass by, barely realized that the light had darkened and the temperature lowered. She hadn't even had a drink, only a couple of sips from the bottle of water standing by the bed.

"I didn't mean to hurt you in anyway, Karen. I'm sorry if I did. It just came out like that but I had no intention to stir up some pain."

Apologies had always made her feel uncomfortable, especially when they came from a friend. It sounded inappropriate, a sort of complete waste of time. At least with Grace and Jack it barely happened because it was all so futile, so light.

"I can't believe that I missed out a whole day. What have you done?"

Avoiding an embarrassing, awkward reply; maybe it was coward but she didn't know how to handle her insecurities in public, barely in the intimacy either. He didn't insist. Anyway he knew her very well and it was far from being the first time she ran away like that.

"I worked on a couple of files then went for a walk wondering if you were still alive and would ever talk to me more than the five seconds of this morning…"

"Why are you so nice with me? Is it because I just got a divorce from Stanley and so I need to relax? I didn't ask you to come over here to hold my hand the whole time or let me cry upon your shoulder. I'm fine."

"Then why am I here?"

The words vanished from her mind and for a couple of seconds she remained still, troubled by the simplicity of his question that didn't seem to find any resonance in her head. But when the idea brushed her lips, she looked down shyly and shrugged; murmured.

"To be yourself… This is what I need the most right now. The kind of substitute you turned into makes me mad."

"And you know what made me mad at some point?"

She shook her head, still avoiding his gaze. From the very beginning she had tried to control the situation but the truth was that she had never managed to do so and as the hours were passing by, she could feel how it was all slipping through her fingers; irrevocably.

Will sat down next to her, the bed responding to his weight silently. A thousand things were probably going on at this exact moment but all she could think about was the way his knee was brushing her thigh through the blanket. She hadn't renounced to her plans.

"It's the way you kept on forgiving Stanley. It drove me crazy and I'm still looking for a valuable reason that would explain your behavior."

She hadn't expected that but didn't show that she had been taken aback. Instead, she locked her hazel eyes with his brown ones and shrugged matter-of-factly.

"He was my husband. It was my role to support him; no mattered what happened."

"But this is not the person you are. You weren't even in love with him…"

"How can you advance such a thing? You don't know me so well, especially when it comes to my relationships."

But he was right and they both knew it. Her remark didn't trouble him in the slightest way and so he kept on going.

"You only stayed for Mason and Olivia."

It felt like a spotlight had been oriented straight into her eyes, blinding her but warming her up too at the same time; odd sensation to feel secure and naked before a painful truth.

"You forgot the money part."

But she didn't even manage to persuade herself through this lame remark.

Then it happened, all of a sudden. It hit her mind with strength, spreading its certainty throughout her body. It was the right time. She had to make him hers, now.

Very slowly she leaned over, her eyes getting closed in an odd instinct as the palm of her hand looked for a firm base to lean on but all she managed to reach turned out to be his fingertips. She brushed them, the heat of his breath caressing her lips.

The waves were crashing in the background and she assumed it was a windy evening, full of compromises and secrets; once-in-a-life things.

She slightly opened her mouth but gasped as she felt his hands on her shoulders and he pushed her away.

She swallowed hard and stared into his eyes.

That wasn't part of her plan.

"No."

How could a single word hurt so much at the end? She managed a smile, a torturing one.

"You don't know how determined I am… I don't give up so easily."

He stood up.

"Neither do I."

Then left.


	6. Both parties

Yet as a child she used to be fascinated by the ocean. It had nothing to do with its immensity but the strength of the waves as they hit the rocks with an anger that made her shiver every time and smile, peacefully. She couldn't explain it but the result was relaxing and as the years began to pass by, more and more needed.

Leaning against the wall of the lighthouse Karen closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She hadn't run away for such a long time that the realization of how she had missed the sensation of freedom that used to follow had taken possession of her in an odd, instinctive way; too powerful.

She hadn't packed, hadn't booked a flight and left the state but simply gone outside. She would have to face Will again, accept the failure of her plans about him and pretend that it would be alright. It always had to be. People didn't really like when she left behind her exuberance and turned a bit darker.

A noise on her left made her turn around and look up. She didn't move, let him sit down on the ground by her side. At least with Jack things would have been easier. Why did it have to be so complicated with Will?

But he didn't seem embarrassed.

"My father had a cancer. He was diagnosed when I was five. I didn't realize what was going on by then and the only memory I have is the vision of my mother sat down in the kitchen, stifling her cries in her hands. When I asked her why she was sad, she told me that it had to be a lie. I didn't understand her reply before a very long time but if I came backwards, I wouldn't want to be able to get her words either. My innocence protected me but flew away almost immediately. He died and we were off in this whirl of unbalanced plans. This is when I knew that if I wanted to make my dreams come true the only person I had to rely on was me. Until I met you… That's why I can't afford to lose you."

Strangely enough she had remained extremely calm, focalizing on a rock below; a very little one that got covered by the waters on a regular motion. She wished she could have done the same at some point and got hidden from the rest of the world behind a transparent veil of strength.

"Then let's just move on. I know you're going through a hard patch; no matters you will tell me how it's wrong and maybe you even managed to convince yourself that everything is fine. But you're not, Karen. You're not okay so for once put your arrogance aside and let me help you. If you rely on me, do it."

"I just went away to have some fresh air. Why did it have to turn this way? I hate dramas. I hate conflicts. But ironically these two are the bases of my day-to-day life. What were your dreams as a child? What did you want to be?"

"Anything but looking like my family… Just in case you haven't noticed it, I have a very protective mother."

"Hmm… At least you have one. The last time mine called me was when I turned thirty and yet all she wanted was money."

"Do you really have the feeling that you have missed all your plans? That you have crashed all your childhood dreams?"

"Maybe that's what they are for in the end, never reach our miserable existences."

He didn't reply. Had she gone too far, one more time?

"But if you really want to know, honey… I still have a couple of dreams. I like thinking that everything is not over yet."

"See, you can be optimistic."

"Or just a fool…"

But she couldn't help it and realized that even though he had pushed her away, she still wanted to get him in her arms if only for a night. It was a urge, irrepressible and completely incomprehensible but it was still there.

She locked her eyes with his for the very first time and let a few seconds fly away before nodding and saying again.

"Yeah, maybe I'm just a fool."

He looked away, obviously uncomfortable this time and cleared his voice. A seagull passed in the sky above their heads before plunging in the ocean to catch up some prey.

"I had a call from Grace. She says that things are okay but Jack is driving her crazy, especially at the office since he convinced himself that he would be a wonderful designer assistant. I guess she misses you."

"I will call her. I want to know if she finally got the contract with Mrs. Tyler."

Will began to laugh, softly and she looked at him with perplexity.

"What is so funny?"

"The way you care so much about your life as soon as you run away from it. You should try to enjoy it too once in Manhattan."

"Oh I do. I just don't show it that much, that's all. But don't be worried, I really do care about some of the things that have been happening to me for those past years."

He took her in his arms and she didn't resist, didn't even try. Obviously their hug was supposed to close their lapse of awkwardness. Of course it didn't put an end to the slightest thing but if at least one of the parties thought so then the other one could start moving again through her plans.


	7. Bloomsday and Ceili

It took her a couple of seconds to realize that wherever she lived, the rooms turned cold if not icy. Perhaps they were just adopting the shades of her mood, what her subconscious told her as it guided her steps through her lame existence.

It happened so quickly that she barely managed to restrain a gasp as the heat slid around her neck and tightened her throat; the loud cacophony in the background tearing her eardrums.

Cold and silent, almost lifeless; and she had needed thirty-eight years to come to those harsh conclusions.

"Try to find two chairs. I go for the drinks."

Will's hand pressed her elbow as he leaned forward to speak directly into her ear. The heat of his breath sent a shiver down her spine but she simply nodded, scanning the room for available seats. People were everywhere, talking and laughing; completely unaware of her presence. This was a situation she hadn't faced in a very long time. When she entered a room, she used to be observed, admired and hated; envied most of the times or at least she tried to convince herself of so. It made things easier, a lot of them.

A bit timidly she approached a large table and motioned the end of the wooden bench with her head to a young, reddened-face man who had in hand what probably was his fifth pint of the evening while it wasn't even eight o'clock yet.

She sat down, holding tightly her bag and waited for Will with evident nervousness. Having to face strangers had always troubled her a lot, crashed down her so-called self-confidence reducing her to the invisible teenager she had been once before all the rest occurred and she became who she was now.

"What is that, honey?"

She hid the relief on her face as he sat down and pushed a pint in front of her, some drops landing on the wooden table on a trail of little clouds.

"They only have hard cider. No Martini, sorry."

She didn't have time to reply and anyway, her comment would have been pointless, a desperate attempt to fill the silence between the two of them. The strings of a banjo put a sudden end to the conversations and everyone turned around to look at the musicians up on a little stage.

"I don't remember having read that they would have violins."

Karen took a sip of her cider, restrained a smile as memories rushed back to her mind and she leaned closer to Will; whispered.

"They're called fiddles in traditional Irish music. They often accompany a bombarde and a bodhran, as well as some tin whistles."

Her remark surprised him. Obviously he hadn't expected her to know so much about Irish music if not about anything in particular except the smell of money and Martinis. It happened all the time and that was why she preferred to remain quiet or play the silly card. At least she didn't have then to go in explanations, to speak about her past.

"My grandmother has never left Ireland so I am the one who goes there, or better said was."

"She died?"

"No."

"Then what happened?"

"I just stopped. Everything stopped."

But the music started playing and her mysterious words vanished in a whirl of relief for she wouldn't need to go in further explanations. Some things were better when kept under silence, not that they were too harsh but for the shame they ended up settling down.

The slow rhythm took her away softly as the old man's voice, firm and fragile at the same time, rocked her heart of a thousand regrets, a trail of memories; from the grey sky of the afternoon and the wind running through the grass to the lonely stoned house at the end of the path, hills and clouds, the smile of a woman who knew all the legends of the area.

Her throat tightened for the second time but a whole different reason had stirred up her melancholy. It wasn't about the heat or the brouhaha but the tune of the fiddle and the remorse it engraved on her soul.

The rhythm got faster as feet and hands began to join. The vapors of alcohol had finally spread over people's heads and the inhibitions were getting falling down, slowly.

A dozen of couples stood up and began to dance, absorbing the cadence of their steps; combining them to the music. And very soon half of the room turned into a ballet of whirls and laughs, joyful faces.

"Come on!"

Will grabbed her hand but she didn't move and stared at him in disbelief.

"I'm certainly not going to dance."

"Who cares if you don't know the steps? Nobody judges you here. You're a complete stranger so for once, do something you really want to, Karen. And have fun."

Her pride got hit, not by the lack of attention but by the fact he had dared to advance the idea that she didn't know Irish dances when they were the only reference she had received as a child and it sounded like an insult towards her origins. Before she knew it, Karen found herself in the middle of the room leading Will through the basic steps of some traditional Sean-nos that very soon turned into a Céili. The line of dancers appeared and as she locked her eyes with Will's, she realized that she was smiling heartedly.

"Happy Bloomsday."

The words slid on his lips quietly as the night of June, 16th got taken away by the melody of the fiddle and the tin whistles.

They were getting closer, she knew it.

She grabbed his arm and turned around; faced him again.

Getting closer, slowly.


	8. Words in the morning

Something moved against her arm and she woke up facing a wall she had never seen before. Every morning she used to open her eyes and observe the ocean, the waves rolling over the sand a few feet below the porch of the one-bedroom flat. For the first days she had actually missed the top of the trees of Central Park, the smell of the mansion and the bitter illusion that everything was alright. But then the trick of the distance had begun to work out and she knew that the day she would have to go back to Manhattan, she would miss the quietness of her getaway, its reassuring shades.

"Good morning."

She couldn't help but freeze, swallow hard at the sound of his voice on her back. It took her a few seconds if not a whole life to realize that she wasn't naked and had actually not taken off her clothes of the day before. With uncertainty she turned around but didn't manage a smile.

She didn't remember the slightest thing, how she had landed in Will's bed and obviously fallen asleep there. Time seemed to have disappeared from the moment they had left the Irish house and made their way to the houses.

"Are you okay, Karen? You look… Troubled."

Instinctively she opened her mouth to reply but stopped halfway, realizing that she had no words; simply that. He was still fully dressed though. She felt bad.

"I wouldn't have let you order this additional pint if I had known that hard cider had such effect on you."

"I don't have a hangover. I'm perfectly fine."

And it was true. She wasn't tired, even less weak. For having made of hangovers a lonely acolyte in her life, she knew that in this exact morning, she wasn't sick. She had just lost track of a part of past time.

Before she could react, Will passed his arm around her waist and dragged her towards him then tightened the embrace. She didn't protest as his fingers began to stroke her hair but wasn't thrilled either when she should have to. Wasn't it the right time to make a step forward in her secret plans? She lost all her courage instead as a strong wave of panic spread throughout her body.

"Do you know that you speak in your sleep?"

The remark displayed a light smile on her lips but as usual _ for a very long time now _ it vanished almost immediately in a waltz of bitter melancholy. Stanley had told her the same once at the very beginning of their relation when hopes were still winning over reality. And she had loved it, feeling the warmness of pleasure invade her heart.

"What did I say this time?"

"You said that you didn't like the passing of time because it always ended up stealing from you the people you loved and one day Bronagh would die. Who is Bronagh?"

She got away from his embrace in a poor attempt to escape from his words and leaned up on her elbow, staring at him with embarrassment.

"It's my grandmother, the Irish one."

Obviously he hadn't expected this kind of reply because it let him speechless, uncomfortable. He only nodded, vaguely enough.

"Do you know what Bronagh stands for, Will?"

"No…"

"It means 'sorrow'. It's my middle name too."

She kept for herself the irony of fate or whatever it was supposed to be and let escape a small, artificial laugh that didn't fool anyone at all. But still, it made him react though.

Very slowly he pushed away behind her ear a strand of hair and let his fingers caress her nape then tightened his grip on it. Something happened then unless it was just the result of a whole, subconscious process.

Guided by his gesture she leaned over, coming closer to his lips.

Her mouth brushed his and she was about to steal his breath when the phone rang in the background, breaking down whatever spell had taken possession of them. She sat up in bed and turned her back at him as he got up in an awkward motion.

"Hi Gracie, how are you?"

Facing the wall, her palms against the mattress, the odd sensation of being at the wrong place at the wrong moment hit Karen's mind. She looked down, frowned realizing that if anything happened between the two of them, the feeling might got repeated over and over.

Being a mistress; it was how it had started with Stanley and for half a decade she had lived in the dark, growing in people's gossip, in spread rumors. They had made it official a week after his divorce but it had ceased to be a surprise for so long that nobody would have protested against the fact their relation was already off and over somehow.

Even the furtive shades of a one-night stand with Will would plunge her into the same kind of feelings. She would be the other woman in what looked like an incomprehensible net of events. It was pretty close to her life.

"Karen, do you want to speak to Grace?"

She jumped at the call of her name and turned around, nodded a bit reluctantly. Will gave her the phone and disappeared in his bathroom, locking the door behind him.

It only took her a deep breath but finding the courage to sound casual broke her heart into pieces. She stepped onto the porch and cleared her voice.

"Hello, Gracie. How are you, honey?"

Her friend's voice hit her hard and without any warning the tears began to run down her face, silently. She hadn't planned to feel so bad.

"We miss you too."

And the conversation went on, under her stifled cries.


	9. A scheduled life

Every Friday evening was held a movie session at the library of the village. As a matter of fact, every single day responded to a well-established schedule that seemed to determine the perfect mechanism under which lived the unhabitants of the seaside place. It didn't sound chaotic like Manhattan, a lot less impersonal and cold; and for someone who had lost faith in whatever was supposed to be called a life, it was perfect.

The wind passed through her hair, caressed her nape and sent shivers down her spine. She clenched her fists but didn't say a word and kept on staring intently at the asphalt where an old sticker had penetrated the ground.

Of course they had avoided to mention the awkward moment of the previous morning when the phone had interrupted a very troubling kiss or the attempt to. They had simply moved on, one more time, as if nothing had ever happened.

One step forward, two more backwards; nothing led anywhere and as the days were passing by, Karen could see her doubts growing heavily over her mind.

"Why do we always want what we can't get?"

"Because it allows us to fail without having to blame ourselves that much."

She raised a dubitative eyebrow but finally didn't reply. He was right, one more time.

"What are you going to do when you come back to New York?"

A couple bought tickets and disappeared inside, allowing the others to make a step forward. Just one; it was going too slow, too odd to be standing by his side. She didn't want to speak about herself and even less her complete lack of projects related to Manhattan now that Stanley was out of the picture and she had been left behind.

"I have to find a flat, a place to live."

"You're not going to stay at The Palace Hotel?"

It hadn't even crossed her mind when the five-star building had been a reference for a whole decade as soon as the crisis of her marriage pushed her to go away for a little while. She frowned, scanning her emotions.

The Palace didn't sound right this time.

"No, I want… I want my flat."

She wanted so many things that all the options were getting mixed and damaged in her head; causing an extreme fatigue. It was a mess and she didn't like it.

"Oh I see."

It must have been an accumulation, the result of a barely contained frustration because if she had had to be honest, he hadn't said anything offensive. But it relieved her a lot to start a pointless argument with him; no mattered she had always known that her anger would suddenly vanish into bitter remorses once she would have gone through her invectives.

"What do you mean? You don't know the slightest thing about me so how can you jump on conclusions so easily, thanks to a single sentence? You're so hypocrite."

The words hurt her a lot more than they used to and for a couple of seconds, she wanted to apologize, sincerely. But then Will rolled his eyes and one more time it was too late. She had ruined everything.

"Well I'm sorry to break into pieces your so-called mysterious persona but it is so easy to read through your mind. Like how you're desperately to escape from Stanley, from the failed idea of your ruined marriage; another one. You can say anything Karen, I still know who you are."

"Oh please, save your so-called analyze! The only things you know about me are the poor details I agreed to give you and you can believe me, they are far from constituting the whole truth. If only I could summarize it all from a teenage crisis to the failure of three marriages then perhaps I wouldn't… I wouldn't be so scared to wake up one morning and realize that I would have missed out everything. I don't want to be this bitter woman I am already. I didn't mean to ruin my dreams. But I did, though. I did."

"Good evening, two tickets I suppose?"

Karen nodded at the librarian who was in charge of the little box-office and tended a bill of twenty then hurried to grab the tickets. She went away in inaudible murmurs.

"You can keep the money."

"Why are you so afraid? You still have all your life before you, Karen. You're not even thirty-nine yet."

The remark made her gasp. Actually it was the only solution she had managed to develop in order to hide the red rushing up her cheeks when she was embarrassed. People paid a lot more attention to the noisiest things and as much as they were true, the details could die at the scene in a complete ignorance.

"Who told you about my age?"

Things were getting worse and she was threatening now, on the verge to cry. If she had had the mere idea of the way the evening would turn, she would have stayed in bed, trying desperately to disappear from everyone's head.

"Karen, as your attorney I had to face official papers more than once."

"Then let just pretend it was all a lie or even better, that it never happened. You seem pretty good at that."

"But what is the problem with your age? You're still very young. There's nothing to be ashamed about."

A couple of people passed next to them, heading to the main room. She let a pale smile lit up her lips, nodded at them but finally grabbed Will's wrist to put him apart between two shelves. Her breath was loud, short and her throat so tightened that whenever the air slid down to her lungs, it hurt like an old wound that would have begun to bleed again.

She locked her eyes with his brown ones and shook her head.

"See, you don't understand anything. This is not about shame at all but the terrible sentiment that all the things I dared to dream about came to an end before I even found myself in the capacity to reach them. It's just a sort of deconstructive game that would show me that I might only be born to fail. I'm not scared. I'm just desperate."

A tear caressed her cheek and she swept it away almost immediately but how could she have hidden her sorrow when the cries were making her body shake so hard? She shrugged, swallowing back a bitter realization she had tried to ignore for too long now.

"Even with you it doesn't work out."

The lights turned off and they found themselves in the dark, a few inches away from each other. She turned on her heels, avoiding his gaze. At least now she could cry in a well-deserved privacy. She began to walk away but he suddenly grabbed her wrist.

And before she realized what was happening, Will pushed her against a shelf; holding her waist firmly.

Then he kissed her hungrily.


	10. The notion of time and unplanned things

She felt like smiling but didn't dare to, just in case the gesture would sound odd to him and he would stop kissing her then apologize if not rush out of the country. Actually she barely moved and let him do all along. Every time she had come to him, she had been received by a negative response so maybe that was the key, give him some time; let him go at his own pace. And obviously she ended up being rewarded, at last.

Very slowly his fingertips passed underneath her top and began to caress her waist, sending shivers down her spine, stirring up the exhilarated sentiment to be alive. She had almost forgotten what to be desired felt. With Stanley the mere sign of intimacy had faded away for a very long time and for some reason she hadn't managed to explain, she hadn't crossed the limits and met another man. Perhaps because she knew the gloomy aspect of being a mistress, she had renounced subconsciously to love affairs.

But the divorce had settled down a whole different story and she had irrevocably turned the page, maybe too easily if she had thought about it.

His lips finally left hers for her neck. She swallowed hard as his tongue caressed her flesh, not as mischievously as she had hoped for but with a tenderness that would have troubled her if she hadn't lost control over her mind yet.

"Not here…"

Her whisper seemed to be shouted out loud in her ear. She blushed, her eyes sparkling in the darkness of the room. The movie was rolling a few feet away from them, a semblant of dialogue rocking the silence, their short breaths.

His fingers left her waist to get intertwined with her hand. He pressed it tight, way too much for a mere one-night stand but she ignored the feeling and followed him outside.

She had always hated those moments. Putting everything on pause _ as if the sexual tension could get suspended in the air with a troubling logic _ resulted so awkward that a lot of times she had agreed to have sex right in the place where she had been kissed. The spell was broken if she didn't do so and a heavy discomfort suddenly spread over the two lovers waiting desperately for the next move that would release everything.

They stepped out of the library hand in hand, without saying a word. She didn't want to look at him but the seconds seemed to last an eternity and as much as they were walking fast, a million ideas made their way to her mind. She didn't have to accept them because it would only lead to a deep sentiment of confusion and the rest of the night would be ruined.

She just hoped that he would do the same and not back in retreat.

He didn't and they finally reached her house, the first one on their path.

The door got slammed and as the sound the waves disappeared, her heart speeded up its pace. He was standing there, in front of her, probably waiting for a sign to go on but she still couldn't prevent from staring stupidily at his feet; no mattered she was about to see her wishes granted.

Maybe she should have stopped at this exact moment and told him everything.

"Look at me."

She did, reluctantly. How could he seem so calm, so self-confident when he was supposed to be the one completely overwhelmed by the events?

His hand caressed her cheek and very soon they were kissing, slowly; with an ounce of incertitude that only gave more passion to their timid embrace.

Before she knew it, her knees bumped on the bed and she sat on it; laid down under him. He was leading, that was unexpected but if she had had to be honest, it was exactly the way she wanted it to be.

She took off his shirt, her fingertips brushing his back; sliding down along his spine as his mouth was now on her lower stomach. He unzipped her skirt and her naked legs suddenly made contact with the bare fabric of his jeans.

She knew men by heart. From the way they used to think and behave to the weaknesses of their bodies. She hadn't had so many partners but a disciplined mother who had taught her about the importance of observation.

Because it was all calculated, it had to be.

His kisses made their way to her breasts and her murmur died in a moan of soft agony. She arched her back, her fingers in his hair; pushing him closer to her body.

When an hour later she closed her eyes and fell asleep, Karen's heart warmed up at the conviction that she would never regret what had just happened between the two of them.

The light of the morning caressed her face as little by little she came back to reality; firstly the sensations of warmness, then the sounds of the waves on the beach.

"Good morning."

She rolled on her back, her naked skin brushing the sheets and she looked at him; smiled. She had never managed to sound cold while waking up in her lover's arms. It wasn't appropriate at all and she wasn't sure whom would have been the most hurt in the process.

But Will didn't reply, barely smiled back at her.

"Are you okay, honey?"

Her voice showed up her slight anxiety before the fact she might have to face something unplanned, at least by her.

Will sat up and looked at his hands, shrugged.

But if he had remorses, why would he have stayed until the next morning?

"Just speak, dammit!"

Her harshness made him jump but at least he turned around and looked at her. She waited, more or less patiently. She was panicked.

"I have to go back to Manhattan. My plane leaves within three hours. I have to go now."

She lost any notion of time unless everything got speeded up because she was sure it hadn't taken her more than two seconds to analyze his words. Though he had already got up and left, vaguely apologizing.


	11. PS I miss you

He left and she didn't say goodbye. Her gesture set off all the rest unless it already belonged to an invisible logic she hadn't noticed before but that surely would make them fall into a bitter trap at the end. How could she have blamed him when she hadn't been clear, at any moment, over whatever they had lived?

He sent her a text message to tell her that he was boarding. She didn't reply, second mistake after the silence of the exact morning. Of course she had never planned that he would run away from her under those circumstances for the only reason that she used to be the one to pack and leave, just like that; without any warning.

She had been taken aback but definitely not hurt in anyway since she had never meant to get attached to their lonely night. The truth was that she had reached her goal and was pretty satisfied now.

But then he landed in New York and sent her another text message. If he had only alluded to the safety of the flight, she wouldn't have cared that much but the last three words of his missive stirred up an odd sensation in the depths of her throat, a paralyzing feeling that simply led to a frank panic.

_I. _

_Miss._

_You._

It really hadn't crossed her mind because if it had been the case then she might have renounced to her plans. A one-night stand, the pure ecstasy of sex without the commitments of those relationships always so susceptible to fail; it didn't have to be anything else.

At least for her.

So she finally replied because she knew way too well how it hurt when you didn't get anything back from a sincere act of sweetness and then it never really stopped. Perhaps she actually got lost in his game and since she was feeling so lonely there by the sea _ still unable to come back to Manhattan for some reason she couldn't explain _ Will played a determining role in the days that followed.

She got a message in the morning, during his lunch break and a call in the evening. His words were soft and punctuated, distant somehow. They never talked about their night, even less about the intimacy they had shared. Their conversations were somewhere in between the relation of two very good friends and the implicit statement of timid lovers. He was hesitant, probably because he didn't know what she really wanted. She didn't dare to put an end to whatever they were living.

So it simply went on under awkward misunderstandings.

_I'm coming back at the end of the week, for your last days out there. I won't be alone though, Grace and Jack want to come along. Will this ever work out with them by our side? I hope so, I really do._

It was getting worse but she simply couldn't resigned herself to break his dreams. It would take away the warmness of whatever she was going through. She needed him by her side but not that way anymore. A confident, not a boyfriend; she had just divorced and they were only supposed to be friends.

_I miss you. Please, take care._

That's why she kept on lying or better said, kept on playing with words and their meanings. She knew that at some point, it would end up exploding and probably break into pieces their relation if not their whole life but she couldn't help it. Not now.

Friday showed up and she found herself waiting at the airport, for him or for them; she wasn't so sure anymore. The place was surprisingly crowded unless she had just forgotten what it was to have more than a couple of people around her. Life in the village was so calm, way too lonely sometimes though. And all of a sudden she wondered if she would ever be able to face the boiling life of Manhattan again.

"Karen!"

His voice actually made her freeze and she swallowed hard, confused before whatever was supposed to occur now.

At least the phone had kept an ounce of virtuality but now she had turned around and locked her eyes with his, she realized that it was the first time she faced him since their odd morning.

"Hey…"

She waved at him shyly but her hand stopped halfway, somewhere in the air. The heat had rushed to her cheeks; she was blushing. It hadn't happened for such a long time.

"Glad to see you."

His hand slid on her waist and he planted a kiss on the back of her neck. How come a single night could change a whole person like that? He had never showed any sign before, barely an interest towards her own persona. It seemed so strange, unbelievable; charming.

She smiled at him and pressed his hand.

Losing control of everything, slowly…

"Where are they?"

She looked over his shoulder, anxious and vaguely uncomfortable in his arms; in a public place.

"They're on their way, still waiting for their bags. I told them that I would go for you first. Hmm… I guess Jack will stay with me tonight and Grace will go with you, she has a lot of things to tell you. But at some point I'm hoping for a little more intimacy. The week has been hard for me. You're so far, almost unreachable."

Women used to say that and men got scared, not the opposite. So why did his remark almost kill her at the scene?

"Karebear…"

Grace and Jack's entrance put an end to the embarrassing silence that would have followed his way too honest statement. She let go of his hand and rushed towards Jack, more in an attempt to escape from Will than anything else. But she could feel his eyes on her back.

And it didn't sound right.


	12. Determinations

When Grace's breath became regular in her back, she slowly got up and left the room. The house was plunged in the dark but the pale light of the moon passed through the windows, tracing white paths over the bare furniture. And the waves in the background, a reassuring sound of a monotone routine she might have lacked too many times in her life had finally turned into the reference of her lonely nights.

The wind caressed her nape as she stepped out on the porch, the wood was cool under her bare feet. She couldn't fall asleep, couldn't stop thinking. The evening had gone by too fast and she hadn't had enough time to determine the hundred things that were now dancing loudly in her mind, prevented her from reaching her dreams.

Her hand grabbed the banister and she went down the few steps leading to the beach until the ocean touched her toes. She sat down in the obscurity, facing a long ribbon of dark spreading somewhere, just a few inches away. And passing her arms around her legs, she leaned her chin on her knees; closed her eyes.

"Why don't you hide from me? They all do at some point. I never promised you the slightest thing so why do you stand by my side? You should go away before I break everything into pieces."

He had come to sit down next to her but she hadn't bothered to look at him unless she didn't dare to. The difference was big but the result the same. She started wondering.

"Do I make you suffocate?"

His question tightened an invisible grip on her throat and made her gasp. She frowned, stared at him incredulously.

"I would rather say the exact opposite."

"Then why sould I go away?"

"Because I can't afford to lose you."

He leaned over and captured her lips then for the second time in their lives she let him do, all along. It didn't seem right but there was something about the heat of his body _ the way it passed underneath her own skin _ that she needed with the urge of some vital instinct.

Her fingers reached his nape and she led him towards her as she lie on the sand, squeezing his waist with her legs. She didn't feel it run but the salty taste on their intertwined tongues brought incomprehensible conclusions. Will broke apart, leaned up on his elbows and looked into her hazel eyes.

"Why are you crying?"

"I missed you."

Her lie vanished in an odd ounce of truth. She passed her fingertip on his jaw, bit her lower lip.

"You're getting all so wrong, Will."

"Not since I can hold your body against mine…"

The remark sent a shiver down her spine, subconsciously.

"Am I an old fantasy of yours, the woman you never really managed to make yours?"

He shook his head vehemently and rolled her on a side, against him.

"You're an incomprehensible mystery; not so fascinating but… Addicting. I like the fragility that pierces through your eyes in spite of your efforts to hide it. That's what makes you so unique."

"My lies? Thank you…"

She began to laugh lightly but the way he tightened his grip on her made her cease.

"No. Just the way you can be so true. You're beautiful."

She cleared her voice nervously and looked aside, how her hair seemed so dark against the sand.

"You're making me uncomfortable, Will."

"It's okay. I didn't ask for anything in return."

It would never belong to a one-day-at-a-time theory. They had no future, barely a present and even less a past if not this blurry night she started regretting bitterly. He knew she didn't own the same perspectives as him but he didn't mind and seemed determined to go on as if at some point in their lives, she would change and recognize that he would have always been the right one.

"I don't like certitudes, especially in this kind of situations."

"Are you afraid to run away from them?"

"No. They're the ones that run away from me, every time. And I don't want to go through it by your side. It's not fair and…"

"And what?"

"Nothing, it's just not fair."

"Then let's just not think about the next mornings…"

For a couple of seconds she believed him, let the strength of his faith rock her agitated mind but then reality crashed back on her face through images of her past failures. She stood up, made a few unbalanced steps backwards and shook her head.

"Not with you, Will."

"I didn't say that I was in love with…"

"And don't say it! Just go back to your life and pretend it was a bad dream."

It should have worked. As a matter of fact, at this exact moment she had finally thought that she had succeeded in her desperate effort to go away from him. If only he hadn't added anything…

"But if I do so then I'll run away from my life, Karen. And you'll run away from yours."

"Like it'd be the first time…"

"But you've already played all your cards and all you can do now is accept the way things are."

She would always hate the way he tended to be right and as much as she had managed at some point to get some distance and make fun of this characteristic, it was over now.

He stoop up and wrapped his arms around her frame then, very slowly, planted a soft kiss on her lips. They made love on the beach, taken away by the immensity of the place and the shades of freedom that seemed to show up from it. It didn't match at all with the scene, didn't bring any balance either but for some reason it was worth anything.

She stepped back in bed slowly, pulled up the blanket and closed her eyes. Grace was still sleeping by her side.


	13. Broken wish

"I put all the sketches up on a shelf so that you get more room. You can use the empty boxes as well as all the rest anyway it was just a complete mess so at least you gave me an excuse to clean up the place a little."

Grace stopped her nervous, pointless comings and goings and stared at Karen. She frowned, shook her head dubitatively.

"Are you sure it's going to be alright? I've never meant to make someone live here. It was supposed to be an annex of the office when I first bought it so it's not really…"

"It's perfect, honey. It's exactly what I need, for a while."

For a couple of seconds Grace wondered how her friend could remain so calm when the bases of her existence had fallen down within a week and she was left without anything. Perhaps Karen had more courage than she would ever have at the end.

"Okay… Then if you need the slightest thing, just call me."

Karen nodded but let her friend leave, looking blankly at the door get slammed and all of a sudden the silence swallowed her as the emptiness of her life seemed to laugh out loud. She turned around, slowly; unsure. In a protective attempt her right hand had grabbed her left arm, her nails digging circular drawings on her skin.

There she was, about to do it all over again with the vain hope to not ruin anything this time.

The air left her lungs. She gasped, sat down on the bed and began to cry.

During her getaway Stanley had sent her bags to Grace's office, unable to find another proper address of residency for his ex-wife. But nobody had told her about it. They had kept the secret for themselves in the dry attempt to protect her from whatever was supposed to happen if she would learn about it.

The plane had landed in New York and she had had to face their words with an awkward harshness, smiling all along to pretend it was okay because she knew this was her last chance anyway.

She took a deep breath and observed the studio through her tears. The countertop of the kitchen looked bare and sad, lifeless in comparison with the thousand sketches rolled up on the upper shelves; dozen of pencils waiting on the floor. The armchair had been relieved from the layers of fabric that had nonetheless engraved their prints on it and strictly abandoned against the wall _ like soldiers ready for their demise _ her suitcases filled the rest of the place of a sentiment of unbalanced decisions when nothing was settled down and she could have rushed away at any moment.

She knew this sensation by heart for having experienced it way too many times as a child, learning to hate it strongly before running away but irony had caught her up back and maybe it was a sign. She was made for this kind of pitiful life.

The tears were increasing their rhythm on her face when someone knocked on the door. Her heart speeded up its pace. She stood up, confused and slightly scared. This was an office building, nobody was supposed to be there at these late hours of the night. Grace's office was at the end of the corridor but all the stories had been abandoned to the dark.

"Who is it?"

Her voice was shaking though she wasn't sure if it was for a need to be reassured or the pain that her situation had stirred up, stealing away the last ounce of self-esteem that hadn't been damaged yet.

"It's me…"

Relieved but confused, she opened the door and leaned on the frame. Her tears had gone away, getting hidden behind a hundred lies.

"What are you doing here, honey?"

"I thought you might be hungry."

"But we had diner at your place a couple of hours ago."

"It wasn't Chinese!"

A bag suddenly landed in front of her eyes, making her jump. She smiled, laughed and looked aside.

"I like your absurdities, Will."

He planted a soft kiss on her lips and entered the studio, heading straight to the so-called kitchen.

"Now let's make this place presentable, Kare."

An hour later they were still sat on the hardwood floor, contemplating the empty boxes of rice in a relaxing silence, a satisfying one.

"You haven't eaten your cookie yet."

"I don't want it."

"You don't want to know about your future? Come on…"

Without any warning his hands slid on her waist and he pulled her towards him, settling her between his legs. She could feel his heart beat against her back, the weight of his head on her shoulder. The position was uncomfortable. It seemed too right.

She reluctantly picked the cookie and got the message out of it

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

She didn't let him time to reply and threw the piece of paper away, laughing bitterly.

"And it takes a whole life…"

Will planted a kiss on her nape, tightening his grip on her in a tender motion. She leaned her head backwards against his shoulder, closed her eyes and sighed heavily.

"Make a wish, Kare."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you have an eyelash on your cheek."

There were so many things she would have wished for at this exact moment that she only found the most unexpected one. She bit her lips, closed her eyes even tighter.

"Done!"

"Now turn around."

She did, slowly; passing her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. His brown eyes were sparkling.

It would never sound right.

Leaning over he captured her lips in a deep, slow kiss.

She broke apart.

"Will you stay for the whole night?"

"Grace would get worried..."

Broken wish.


	14. In the morning

Morning used to go away in a complete fog, not that she was drunk but because her mind resisted to reality and seemed to stick up with her dreams. She hated the sound of the alarm o'clock as well as the bare light of the early hours. Getting married to a millionaire had put an end to the atrocious necessity to wake up and go to work; until she got bored with Stanley, lost herself in an argument and applied for a job as a designer assistant.

She entered the office, walking slowly and headed straight to the coffee machine. The mug got warmer in her hand. She looked down at it and realized that coffee had already got poured in it, so quickly.

"Karen, don't come to the office in your pajama's."

"Don't be worried, honey. I come back to bed immediately."

She loved teasing Grace. It reminded her of the relationship she had had once with her own sister except that the roles were reversed.

She left the office and found back the warmness of the bed, coffee in hand. Two weeks had passed by now since she had come back to New York and tried to settle down in the studio. She had unpacked, even taken possession of the place but the feeling to be at home was still floating somewhere up, above her head.

The door flew opened and Grace leaned on the frame.

"Am I any fool that I actually believed you would come to work on time when you moved here?"

"I need a day off."

"Why, are you sick?"

"No… I'm just… I don't know."

If she had had to be honest, she would have confessed her confusion and the weight that seemed to have penetrated her heart. She would have looked at Grace straight in the eyes and told her everything about Will, how the situation had slipped through her fingers and she didn't know what to do with it.

She remained quiet instead. Some things couldn't be said out loud.

"This is not a reason, Karen."

"Have you ever been in love?"

The question surely took Grace aback but after a few seconds, she simply shrugged and sighed.

"I'm not sure."

"At least you might have been. My answer is negative and sometimes I feel like it will always be."

"Is it a problem for you? Some people think that being in love is just an option."

"Of course, it is! I mean, I wonder what it's like and… You know, all these things. Stanley used to say that I was heartless. Perhaps he wasn't so wrong at the end."

"Don't ever believe what he said."

Karen looked up at her friend, intrigued and surprised by the employed tone of voice. It hadn't been harsh but firm and determined. She frowned, vaguely smiled.

"I met someone."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, I have already turned the page over Stanley; which wasn't so hard since I wasn't in love with him. Accepting the idea of failure cost me more to be honest."

Grace made a few steps in and came to sit down on the edge of the mattress. She looked astonished, curious and happy. Her eyes were sparkling.

"Who is he?"

"Oh, no one in particular."

The words broke her heart and made her feel bad, extremely bad. She couldn't reveal the identity of her lover now, if she ever managed to do so at some point anyway.

"Is it serious?"

"Oh no! It was just a fling. Well, not even; let's call it a one-night stand. I guess I needed it."

"Then what is the problem about?"

One day when she was five years old, Karen had got stung by a bee. She had run back home and let her father take care of her injury, tears flirting with the edges of her hazel eyes. But when she had been asked if it actually hurt, she had said no.

This what the first lie she actually remembered. And it sounded exactly like the one she had just come up with.

"I'm not twenty-five anymore, Grace. Waking up in strangers' arms ceased to be a charm for a very long time to me and even though my divorce with Stanley means the end of something, I don't want to go back to those childish things. I want to know what love is, if only once."

"I've been said it hurt."

"It's still better than an utopia."

"Then maybe this one-night stand is actually the right one."

"What if is it?"

Grace shrugged. A soft smile lit up her face until it reached a light laughter.

"Then you will be happy."

"But I don't want this scheme. You know, the baby and the home; the perfect family."

"What do you want?"

"If only I knew."

"But it's not this guy, is it?"

She had no idea where she found the strength to come up with those lies but even if they let a bitter taste in her mouth, she still felt fine after; almost relieved somehow. She sat up, settled against the pillows and took a sip of coffee.

The words came out, harshly.

"I told you he was just a whim."

But there was nothing less sure now. And all of a sudden at eleven in the morning, Karen realized that she couldn't stop thinking about Will.


	15. Confessions and fears

Even when she had her eyes closed, she knew that he was looking at her; observing her features unless it was the way her chest moved under her heartbeats but what could have been perceived as a weird habit got a whole different connotation with Will.

She didn't feel studied or analyzed but simply contemplated at.

"Why do you like looking at me, all the time?"

Her hazel eyes suddenly plunged into his brown ones as a pale smile lit up her face. She had remained in bed, enjoying the warmth of the blanket on her bare skin. He had sat down on the old velvet armchair, opposite her.

"I love the shape of your mouth. Its delicacy doesn't match at all with the firmness of the lines. This is where your singular, breathtaking beauty comes from; an impossible mix of thousand different elements."

She hadn't expected such a developed explanation, elaborated into a sweet compliment. His comment made her blush and she tried to hide it, looking down at the mattress; her hair falling in front of her face.

She was jealous of him, the way he could talk about his sentiments without the slightest shame showing up and this self-confidence that seemed to determine all the rest. Had she been deprived of it at some point in her life or was it just a subconscious shield she had been building through the years before realizing _ too late _ that she had turned into the slave of her own so-called safety machine?

"If the fact I look at you like that troubles you then tell me and I will stop right away. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"It's not that. I mean, it's okay. As a matter of fact I guess you are the first one who has this desire to spend more time observing me than undressing me. The other ones were only interesting in my body. They never stayed that long after, barely spoke. Have you been happy in your love life?"

Will leaned over towards the windowsill and grabbed a glass full of abandoned paintbrushes. He shrugged, plunged his fingers in the center of the singular bouquet and made the whole turn around.

"I had disappointments, a lot of wonders and a bunch of unforgettable moments. I guess we're all alike at the end, you know. We learn from our mistakes, strengthen our hopes from a bright happiness and just try to go on with what's left."

"I have never been happy, even less fully satisfied. And the worst of all is that I know it sounds harsh and terrible to say that because all the things I had… People are wrong about the definition of luck sometimes."

"What was your life with Stanley like? You stayed ten years together, I can't believe it was so dark and cold."

"It wasn't. It wasn't at all. For the very first time I had access to a very traditional family scheme with a husband and two children but the truth is that I never found my place by their side. They welcomed me so warmly that I almost felt obligated to put myself aside and convince myself that I would always be a stranger to them. But I should have known better because this way of life has never been part of any of my desires. I have always wanted to go on on my own and assume everything. But curiously enough I didn't stop chosing the exact opposite."

The alarm of a cell phone put an abrupt end to her confession. Will stood up, heading straight to the pocket of his jacket he had abandoned on a chair; the only one that faced a messy desk. From the warm depths of her bed, Karen looked at him move around with a soft smile on her lips. She couldn't believe that she had just told him all these things. It was relieving though.

"What are these?"

Her gasp died in her throat as she stared at Will's hands in disbelief. He was holding a whole series of small canvas, picked up from the desk. She got up immediately, putting on a bathrobe but knowing that it was too late anyway.

"I didn't know Grace painted."

"They're not Grace's."

She took them off of his hands and tried to hide them among a pile of magazines but the precarious balance brought the whole tower until it fell down and the canvas landed right in front of his eyes.

"You paint?"

"Well you know, I can do a lot more than having sex, drinking and getting high."

She didn't mean to be harsh but she couldn't control it then regretted it immediately. She passed a hand through her hair, sighed.

"I'm sorry, honey. I didn't want to sound nasty… But yes, they're mine. I found the canvas here and there was also charcoal so I gave it a try during one boring night. I used to paint a lot, I even wanted it earn my life painting."

"What happened?"

"I got married."

Her reply arrived way too quickly and with such logic in her tone of voice that a heavy silence suddenly spread upon their shoulders, uncomfortably. A whole minute passed by before her deciding to move on. She kneeled down, grabbed the canvas and put them under the desk.

"Anyway they are just some silly streets scenes of New York I had in mind so it's no…"

"I love them."

"Oh please, you don't have to tell that just to make me happy."

"No, I really do, Kare. Can I have one?"

"No, they are personal."

"And I'm not?"

His question made her freeze. Still kneeled down, she looked at the hardwood floor and swallowed hard, trying to draw conclusions over whatever was going on. How could he be so determined? She finally sighed then nodded shyly if not just abdicated.

"Fine you can have one but at one condition."

"Which one?"

"In exchange, I want you to bring me some of your awesome smoked salmon pasta."


	16. Explanations

The charcoal rolled on the desk then fell down on the floor, resounding loudly against the wood. Sat on the chair, she didn't bother to pick it up and remained concentrated on the drawing.

She sighed, exasperated.

The lines were lame and the proportions not respected at all. She had thought that it would be like hopping back on a bike or going for a swim after a very long break. Drawing was such an important part of her own persona that it was hard to believe her skills had seriously been damaged by the years and the absence of practice. It was frustrating.

Someone knocked on the door. She smiled.

She knew it was him.

Without waiting any longer, she rushed to the door and opened it widely. They had settled down on a very quiet routine, maybe too much comfortable not to turn addicting but the fluidity of their relation was such that none of them felt like putting an end to it.

"I have a surprise for you… Since I am a perfectionist though, I have to recognize it is not perfect and I am not sure I should give it to you now but I know you will like it so please accept the fact it is just a sort of sketch and not the definitive version, okay?"

A couple of seconds flew away. He didn't say a word, barely moved. Her smile froze all of a sudden as she realized that his eyes didn't seem to be sparkling as much as usual. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the fact her heart was beating so fast.

"Will, is everything alright?"

It was because he hadn't come in yet, not even taken her in his arms or planted a light kiss on her lips. Nothing; his gaze was blank.

"Did you use me?"

The perplexity stirred up by his question let her speechless. She blinked, unable to do the slightest thing.

"Did you seduce me just to get lay and kind of revengefully satisfied against Stanley?"

"What are you talking about?"

The truth was that she was starting to understand and she didn't like it at all. It seemed to spread from her feet to her mind through a wave of iciness and it made her feel so bad.

"I was talking with Grace about a couple of things and at some point your name got mentioned, as well as what you told her about your sexual whims and satisfactions. It was all planned, wasn't it?"

"I never promised you the slightest thing."

She should have chosen another kind of words because their awkwardness only managed to release his strong anger.

"What kind of person are you to manipulate your friends in order to get them in your bed? How can you sleep or just look at me straight in the eyes and keep on lying as you did? See, maybe some people are right at the end. You're just a fucking bitch deprived of heart who's mean to live lonely with her nastiness by her side."

The words pierced through her heart and broke it into pieces of sharp crystal, setting off the tears in her eyes. Insults had always hurt but from Will they just turned unbearable and fair; well deserved. Incredulous before the unexpected situation, she looked at him go away but after a few steps he suddenly stopped; laughed bitterly and tended her a dish.

"Here's your smoked salmon pasta. Don't take it bad if I don't stay tonight but I guess I'm not hungry enough unless I just don't want to waste my time with you."

He disappeared in the darkness of the corridor and she found herself alone, holding ridiculously the dish of pasta on the doorframe of her flat.

The urge began to boil in her stomach and before it reached her mind, she was already running, trying to catch him up. She knew it was too late and the pain was there. Besides she had no idea of what she would tell him if he agreed on a face-to-face. Everything was so confused in her head that at some point she hoped he had gone too fast and she wouldn't be able to reach him on time.

But she did.

"Will, wait!"

He turned around and stared at her blankly. She hated that, the way it sounded implicitly insulting; so much colder. She felt intimidated then and the words stayed trapped in the depths of her blurry heart.

"The truth is that I never managed to settle down on any fucking plan. Yes I did want to because I wanted everything to change and you were representing something new and furtive; fresh. But… I never managed to accept this idea, probably because it was you and not a complete stranger I would have met in some creepy bar for a simple encounter. It's been two months and a half now, Will. Is that a one-night stand to you?"

"My intentions have always been clear and I respected the fact you didn't seem to know exactly what you wanted or better said if you should have allowed yourself to get involved into a new relationship because you were afraid it might fail, just like with Stanley. But the fact is I don't even really know what's in your mind now. About us, about you; you never tell me the slightest thing and now that your intentions made their way to me, I'm lost. So just tell me what I am supposed to be to you and if I mean something more than a satisfying f…"

"Don't say that! You see? I can't even bear the idea of it! It might have not turned the way I had thought it would but if I stayed with you it's… It's because I wanted to. I have no idea if it's a good thing or not; if I should be happy and if we should go on. But all I know is that I don't want to stop it now."

But Will didn't reply anything. Very slowly his brown eyes abandoned her hazel ones and as he stared at the floor, Karen had the feeling that he would never look at her the same way anymore.

"Will you ever forgive me? Please…"

Her voice was fragile, shaking. Actually for the very first time in years she sounded desperately sincere.

"I don't think so."

He left. She wished she could have died at the scene.


	17. The weight of determining things

Will went away at the end of August when the sun is still warm on your skin and you remember the smell of the sun, the long days spent on the beach. But the leaves suddenly adopted brown shades and the wind began to blow icily through the hair and before she realized it, Thanksgiving was coming. This is when she understood, finally, that there weren't hopes anymore; only regrets and the bare sentiment to be off-limit.

"You look so dark when you aren't smiling."

Her hazel eyes slid on the blanket before reaching Jack's blue ones. The mere notion of happiness had rushed away from her since a very long time now, or at least she thought so.

'I haven't forgotten how to smile if that can reassure you."

"I know but it seems that you have lost your balance somehow. Your fragility disappeared and now it seems you're incomplete. You should have let him come over to your heart."

She let go of her magazine. The publication slid along the mattress before reaching the floor in a melody of torn pages. But she didn't look at it, barely paid attention to the fact she wasn't holding it anymore.

Sometimes she had the feeling to underestimate Jack and that he might have been a bit smarter than what he pretended.

"How do you know it has to do with men?"

The lightness of Jack found resonance in the way he rolled his eyes and sighed heavily but as he closed the nailvarnish bottle and locked his eyes with hers, a shade of bitterness seemed to sparkle shyly. She got scared, wondering how many times he had pretended to be lost or childish when he had actually got everything.

"I might need to learn about women but if there's a subject I already know by heart, it's the men one."

"I'm not in love."

"Of course not; you wouldn't allow yourself to, you never do. But you're right, I mean, we never know. Being in love is a terrible obstacle to live a full and bright life."

Leaning up on her elbow, Karen narrowed her eyes at him and bit the inside of her mouth. She wasn't in mood to let him fool her like that. If he had decided to play the card of seriousness then he had to do it well, without sarcasm. It made her feel uncomfortable, a sort of involuntary shame.

"Do you think we are only made for a single person? And so all the other ones who at some point cross our path are essential points supposed to lead us to the right one? Because if so, I guess I missed my oportunity and it's too late now."

"The right one is meant to be so you can't miss him. Fate will always bring you back to him, no matters how far you'd try to go away."

"When I was young, I had those ideas about what my grown-up life would be. It seemed so clear, so perfect. I didn't want anyone by my side. It was supposed to be a sort of independent routine where loneliness would only get reflected in accomplishment because I didn't want to get attached. It seemed to only lead to disappointment. When Stanley asked for a divorce, I found myself in the possibility to finally make those dreams come true but the truth is that it didn't turn out how I had planned it all. Motivation is one thing but determining things can reduce your chance to actually be happy because you don't allow fate to penetrate your heart."

"You shouldn't be telling that to me but him."

"I can't. He clearly let me understand that it was over and would always be."

Something sounded wrong at some point and so she got up from bed then hurried to the large window that overlooked the street. An invisible strength had tightened its velvet grip on her throat as a bitter veil of water had invaded her eyes. She swallowed hard, frowned under the pain.

"Besides, it's way too complicated."

"Who told you that the scheme of existence had to be easy? You found someone, it is a chance that you can't ignore because it doesn't happen every day. You might damage it, shape it according to your moods and whims but at the end, it still has to make you smile and feel alive. Come on, Karen. Take a deep breath and try."

"I guess you don't understand that it is not only a matter of desire. There are actually a million different reasons that prevent me from making a step forward and live, fully."

She had never spoken to Jack about her private life in the aftermath of her divorce. At one moment she might have hoped to own a reason to do so but then Will had taken some distance and everything had fallen down.

"Stop thinking about the others and do it for yourself or if not then at least do it for Will. It's so obvious that he's waiting for nothing but you."

His name twirled in her head, resounding against the dry walls of her brain. She turned around and stared at Jack in disbelief.

He shrugged, smiled.

"He is happy, you are happy. He is sad, you are sad. This is elementary, Karen. Anyone would be able to guess that. You know that week when he came back here to New York while you had stayed at the seaside? There was this sparkle in his eyes, a sort of little flame that I had only witnessed once in college. He had lost it throughout the years and when I saw it, it took me a really long time to figure out what it was. He was hopeful again."

"But…"

"But what? Just admit to yourself what your heart is craving for. It will feel so light. He's…"

"He's been waiting for you since the very beginning."

Grace's intervention made her jump. She hadn't seen her arrive nor lean on the doorframe, listening in silence to the conversation she was having with Jack. But then the voice had resounded loud; matter-of-factly, maybe a bit blank unless it was just resigned.

But there was no anger in her heart.

Grace nodded to her own words before repeating.

"He's been waiting for you since the very beginning."


	18. The candle burning down

"It is not my birthday."

From her place to his apartment, she had felt how her heart had been pounding loud against her chest as the pressure of uncertainty was weighing more and more over what was left of her life. If it didn't work that night then she should just pack, go away very far and pretend that nothing special had happened during those past six years.

Who had said that existence wasn't a game?

Wind blew and the candle caressed the palm of her hand, sending shivers down her spine.

"I know… Please accept it as the symbol of my soul. It is also burning down and I can't help it though between your hands I am not scared to face the idea. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Will. Would you ever consider to marry me?"

The gasp he swallowed back with difficulty let her realize that she had taken him completely aback. As a matter of fact, she hadn't planned to propose him. She just wanted to apologize in the first place but now that she was there standing in front of him _ holding the little cupcake with a pink candle on it _ it had sounded better, more logical.

"I love you."

Her voice had matched her imploring, fragile gaze. As if put in the nude by the moonlight, Karen didn't dare to move, rocked as she was by the strength of an old and too long restrained truth.

"What if I say no?"

"Then I will ask it again, over and over until you finally abdict. Unless I just abandon and leave, quietly and hurt."

The alarm of a police car resounded in the background, somewhere very far. From the ninth floor of the Riverside building the city seemed different, quieter and relaxing. It was like a shelter in the middle of an addicting jungle. You couldn't help feeling fine, there; peaceful.

"I miss you, Will. You have no idea how I miss you and how time should get suspended when I am not with you. All these weeks, these hours… I am wasting them so ridiculously when all I want is to be yours."

"But…"

"I am so sorry. Please, at least consider it."

With awkwardness Will finally took the cupcake in hand then observed it in silence. His fingertips slid on the shapes of the pastry, following the complicated paths of his wonders until he stopped and locked his eyes with hers.

"You know what the worst is? Waking up without your arms around me in the morning, the way you buried your face in my neck and smiled there. Of course I could never see it but I used to feel it and then anything could have happened that I wouldn't have cared that much. Because you were there and the world seemed perfect. It took me six years to realize that I needed you to go on but only one second to be sure that I was in love with you. I can't explain it, whether it was latent or completely unexpected; but it did occur."

"I wish I were like you, being surrounded by a million certitudes. The past has been hard on me and I didn't know what to think anymore. I didn't dare to take the slightest decision regarding my love life because it always ended up failing. I can't afford to lose you."

"Then what happened that you decided to play with me?"

"I guess it sounded easier than to recognize my feelings."

A timid smile played on her lips and she looked down at the cupcake, frowned. Will seemed distant and it made her feel extremely uncomfortable. She wasn't used to this kind of confessions. Most of the times men had gone towards her, stealing her reply in the self-integrity of their ambitious minds. And she had been left there, nodding to nothing in particular but the non-sense of her life.

They might have reached another stage. She hoped so.

"They didn't have chocolate anymore so I chose lemon."

"Lemon is my favorite flavor."

She was dying for his lips. Since the day Jack and Grace had revealed that they knew about what had happened between Will and her, she had focalized on his features and the way she would work to get them back. When she closed her eyes in bed after having turned the light off, his smile suddenly turned bright in her head; rocking her dreams of hopes, her sleepless nights of failures. It had taken her a week to find the courage to go outside and head to his apartment in The Upper West Side.

Cupcakes were the best way to apologize; and ask for more, eventually.

"What do you like about me? Why is it me and not anyone else?"

"I have no idea, Kare. But if I have to be honest, it has always been you at the end."

Very slowly Will closed his eyes and blew the candle. The flame began to dance before disappearing in the night, twirling around in a smoke of some secret wish. As his hand slid on her waist, Karen bit her lower lip; on the verge to cry.

How could people keep on living after having lost all their points of references?

He kissed her, softly; almost sagely.

She broke apart and locked her hazel eyes with his brown ones. She was still in the hallway; he hadn't let her come in. She had showed up before midnight in the hope that he wouldn't throw a fit and with some chance, accept her apologies.

She took a deep breath.

"Will you marry me?"

And for the very first time Karen saw her old dreams come back _ different shades for better days _ sticking to the scheme of her grown-up life.


End file.
